


Journey To Zirconia

by aenor_llelo, Datasage



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Selves, Amputation, Biological Weapons, Body Horror, Corruption, Cracked Gems, F/M, Gemsong, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Lots Of Casual Crime, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Mental Instability, Multi, Murder, Needles, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Robbery, Secret Organizations, Time Travel, Torture, Torture Devices, Unethical Experimentation, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aenor_llelo/pseuds/aenor_llelo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Datasage/pseuds/Datasage
Summary: Zirconia- a lab grown gemstone designed for military applications, commonly used as a diamond simulant.Diamond simulant- imitation diamond, false diamond. A shadow. A pale imitation. A manifestation of a time that will never be.orThe consequences of time travel come back to bite Steven.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45
Collections: And Marvel At A Diamonds Many Facets





	1. A Rude Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This is merely chapter one in the story of Connor Universe.
> 
> Datasage's brainchild, and aenor_llelo's editing.

"Great. Where am I now?"

Steven looks around the forest. He'd been on this Earth for a few years now- somehow both too long, and not long enough. Why had his other self messed with time travel in the first place, those years back? Was he simply blind to the risks it posed?

He sighed, the woods providing no answers. Priorities. He had priorities.

First things first. Lack of clothing. The torn remains of his clothes wouldn't do at all. With that in mind, he activated his gemstone. Pink light washed out of it, the threadbare scraps he'd been wearing replaced by a long white robe. Not quite what he was aiming for, but it'd have to do for now.

How had he even gotten into this mess?

Oh, yes. He remembered now.

 _The_ _Gem_ _Eradication_ _Front_.

They had captured him almost the second he'd arrived into existence. If he didn't know better he'd have thought they had a Sapphire at their disposal. (With all the terrible things they'd done, maybe they did.)

And then he'd been forced to...

Tears welled in his eyes at the mere thought of it.


	2. The Root Of His Problems

If someone told him a month ago he was going to try escaping, much less succeeding? He would have laughed in their face. (And to himself, in his lovely little containment cell. Maybe for an hour, or at least until the shock collar started up again.)

The thought almost makes him laugh again. He might have problems.

Who is he kidding, of course he has problems. More than he'll be counting any time soon.

And what was the root of his problems? Was it being a soft-hearted Steven? Was it that other, careless Steven who had messed with time?

No. The root was none of those.

The root lies in the Chitauri. They were the ones who had made humanity so paranoid.

Why did they have to invade? If he knew the answer to that simple question, a lot of things would make more sense.

He needed answers. But more importantly, he needed allies. But who?

Certainly none of those filthy humans could be trusted. Gems? No. He lacked the necessary power and presence of a Diamond to command them in the way he needed.

_A Diamond_. Diamonds could make Gems without an injector, or so he heard. Could he make his own?

...No. As long as the GEF was around, he couldn't.

Priorities. He had clothes. What he needs now is some gear.

Perhaps Tony Stark could 'generously donate' to the Save The Badly Hurt Gem charity. Robbery was always wrong, of course, yet in these circumstances... well. He had no money.

And it's not like Stark would have any trouble replacing the stuff.


	3. The Bright Idea

A shiver wracked his body from the cold wind of the woods, agitating all his pains. Everything hurt, everywhere. His scars had scars on them. His body burned like molten lead was fed into his veins. If he ever met the damn Chitauri who had the bright idea to drive humanity paranoid to the point of forming the Gem Eradication Front, that alien was going to suffer.

Not that he could manage any of that right now. At the moment, he wasn't capable of much anything. He couldn't go back to the family he once had. Even trying to find Connie, as much as he desperately wants to, _needs to_ , held too much risk with the GEF still alive.

He had no choice but to suffer alone while he made his plan.

Step one- heal his gem. The Steven of this world wasn't an option. Years of waiting, hoping for a rescue that had never come, had soured him on this Steven. Not only his rescue- he wasn't the only guest of the GEF. There were hundreds.

But any rescue required that he raid Stark's armory. And with what he'd done to escape the GEF...

How could he get what he needed without making too much of a splash- or worse, a repeat of what he had to do when he first escaped?


	4. The Broken Path Of Sunrise

Steven.

As Steven, who had he been? Who was he now?

Was he the soft hearted child of the Crystal Gems?

~~Was he the weakling that had to always rely on them to pull him out of their mistakes~~

_No._

He was not that Steven anymore. Steven, the son of Rose Quartz. 

_Rose Quartz_ had been nothing more or less than a liar, if the Gem Eradication force was to be believed. If _anything_ they ever told him was to be believed. And they had told him a great many things.

They had let him live, for whatever barest definition of 'live' they deemed him worthy of. The things they'd done to him... this 'mercy' they granted him, and for what?

He still doesn't understand. He doesn't think he'll ever understand.

What a shame for them, and whatever purpose his life had served them, that he had escaped. That somehow, against all odds, against all understanding, he had made _her_.

Her. _His_. His Sunrise.

(He still doesn't know how he did it.)

Like the sun, born in a blaze of light. Like the sun, she had blinded him from after so many years in darkness.

Like the sun, she was a distant, impossible hope and it grew by the second until it consumed him and he _dared_.

He had dared to hope, and gave her his first and only command.

_"Get me out of here."_

She had smiled at him- a small, subtle, wry tilt on her face- and Sunrise Jasper tore the shield from out of his gem.

And like the sun, she had shown the way for him. Her fury had burned them all and torn the bastards apart limb from limb until his mother's shield had shattered in her hands for good.

He hadn't been able to summon it since.

It's strange.

That moment, that exact moment the shield had broken, he could have sworn he heard his mother's voice.


	5. The Why

Ṡ̵̛̪̯͍̪̹͖͙͔̓͗̓̌̍̓͗̈́t̵͍͇̼̹͜͝ę̷̩̮̜̬̻͚̽͂̐̅̕͜͝ͅͅv̸̧̩͓̤̪̞̭̝̦̟̠͇̊̅͂̑̓̔̄͑̒̐̕̚e̵̡̧̯̯̭̭̻͎̔͒͒̋̎̐͒̈́̚͘͠͝ņ̷̦̲͚̥͖̲͔͎͌͐͐̂͋͜.̴̡̥̰̮̣̞͙̈̃́̓͑͐̋̇̍̾̔͋̎̊͜

Steven. That's _his_ name, right?

Right?

H̴̤͔͈̼̠͋̊̇̓̅̅̄̽̈͘o̴͈̭͓̙̬̬͚̖͈͙͙̎̒͛͊̔̈́̂͒̍͛̋̽̽ͅw̵͓̟̣͔̬͖̺̮̑̋̎ ̶͍̇̍̒͂̍̓̆̈́̀d̵̢̢͕͈̒̍̇̈̕a̵̹͂̈́̑͊͂̾̚͠r̵̢̙̩̋̾̍̔̉̓͋̒̌̓̔̂͆̕͝e̷̪̩̭̿̆͂̏̂͝ ̸̡͈̬͇̰͓͙̘̹͕̈̃ÿ̸̢͓̳͓̺̘̹̫͚̩͈̳̣̤̕̕o̶̻̬͚̳͈̘͇̼̻̿̋͐̌̏͑̓̉͘͝ŭ̸̡̬̺̰̔͆̍̉̉̅͐͘̕?̷̧̳̣̈́͛̍̉̇̋̓̈́̃̉͘͝

No. _No._ He didn't _mean_ to.

Ḥ̷̡̛̖̩̺̳̪̍͆ǫ̷̛̩̝͙̯̣̦̱̼͕̳̩̲̒̊̕͝͠͝ͅw̸̧̓͋͌̓̇̋̉͐̍̒̆͌͋̓̒ ̸͕̓̈́̓̇́̿̒̆͛͝c̷͍̼̦̊̽͜o̶͓͓̞̹̦͓̭̼̯̰̘̱͒̇͆͆̓̎̆͊́͆̾̽͠u̴̡̢̯̦̱̺̦̯̬̔͌̐̈́͌͗͒ͅͅl̶̘̪̜̜̞̟̖͖̫̯̥͎̟̘̑̏͜d̵͙͚͕̂͒̾̅́̔͌̿̕ ̵̰̭͕̯͙̰̤̻̆͂̓y̸̱̽̆̈́̊̅̐̚̕͠ó̸̧̹̬̝̩̙͉̋̂u̵̗̘̝̠̇̈́͛̌̕?̵͙͈̖͈͈͍̇̆

Please. Please, no.

It wasn't him! It was Sunrise, he didn't know she would kill them, he-

Y̴̨̡̡̪͓̲̺̲̦̞̬̥͓̆̊͌͋̊͆ǒ̴̯̣͚͍͚̘̹͚̌͒͌̆͆̍̓̔͠ủ̴͎͕͚͉̜̟̮̭̠̳̝͋̔͋̏̅̅̃̈̉̕ ̴̮͎͇̫̤̞͈̠̩̭̖́̒̌̀̈̒̔͠ͅk̶̹̥̦̣̰͙̈́̿͑̈̔̒͗̀̇̾͋̐̕͜͠n̶̨̛̙̠̰̼̯̹͔̿̐͠o̸̡̢̲̜̭̩͖̯̪̗̼̭̩͖̬͒͘ẅ̴̧̨̨̯̙̩͚̘̰͙̘͖̰́̐͂̉̒͂̋͘͝ ̷̛͕̫͍͚͕̎̉͐̃͆̾̌̀̔̊͘e̵̠̪͕͉̙̟͕̳̤̹̘̬͓̋͐x̴̡̹̊͆͌͗͝à̷̢̮͔̦̞̪͓͉̦͖̭̪̀̈́͂̇̊̊̊̈́͑̀̂̒͝ċ̷̡̜̮̼͎͒́̏̈́͆͊͌̈̈́t̸̜͋̅l̴͙͎̳͇͎̋͜y̶̖̘̲̺̼̲͙̣̖̎̿͑̏̈̈́̔ ̶̛͈̦̞͖̺̱̭̄͋͑̏̋̇̍͒̄͌̃̆w̵̧̖̳̺̘̹̿̓̍͒͋̕h̶̡̘͉͍̗̻̯͔̰̟̻̰͍͕́̔͛̎̂̔̒̓̌̈́̋͠a̴̡̜̳̹͕̤̮̭̎̅̉̌̔̓̎̑̽̐́̕̕͜͠ͅt̷̟̾̈́̾̑̍̊̕͠͝ ̵̡̧̺̳͎̹̠͈̹̲̩͓͘ͅy̸̭̳̻̑̉͑̊̊̐̿̈́̽͑̈́͝o̷̡̡̹̜̹̯̱̬͕̙̥̎̓̒͜ủ̸͇̘̺͉̥̘͚̟ ̸̧̟̞̬̼̟̗̹̥̖̮͔͙̺̑͂͌̃̅̇̊̎̇d̴̪̹̯͇͌͗̽̌̔͋̍̑͘̚̚͘̕̕̕į̴̢̗̫̻͙̼̣͖͓͠d̴̨̡̳͔͔̰̣͓̮̬̬͖̑ͅ,̷̢̧̝̣̙̤̠̦͖̗͓́̽̔̿ ̴̧̡̫͔͖͖͍̗̤̤̣̾̎̐͋͌̈́ͅS̷̨̧̟̜̗̗͚̥̎͗̾̕ͅţ̷͙̼̩̳͓̮͐̒͐̊͜ĕ̸̛͙̝̝͙͛̓͛̍̃̏͝v̷̢͍̼̩̦̣̳̝̝̙̖̅̍͋͗̆̎̐ḛ̸̡̛̦͖̖̗̠̙͇̮̺͇̝͉̊̽̿̊͂̏̂͋̋̄͜͝͝n̴̛̻̦̺͙̤̤͕̲̜̔̔́͑̀̆̉͛̔͑̑̀.̶̢̢̝̞̞͕͙̯̟̎͊͋̒̽̏͂̔͠

He tried.

He tried so hard.

He just couldn't.

He wasn't good enough to be _good_.

He just... wasn't... enough.

He just wanted to _hope_ again. He just wanted to feel the sunrise again.

Y̴̡̭̙͓̺͙͇̘̍̋͐̐͛̑͒̔̑̈́͝͝o̵̧̧̲̭̹͙̣̠͉̺̾́͝ů̶̟̮͉̬̣͎̳̈́̏͛͗̊̔͊̕͝ ̵̠̳̼̻̘͓̦̈͊͆̓͋̂͜m̴͓̥͓̘̟͙͉̼͌ǎ̷̛͈̫̗͇͎̺́͋̇̋̒̈́̍́̕͘͜d̵͔̺̂̍̈́͌̂̀̆̈́͛͘̕ͅe̷͉̞̥̗̾̓̐͊̌́͘ ̴̤̬͓̩͎̼̞̰̳̱͙̬̮̌ḩ̷̨̦̗͓̲̗̻̮̰̾̇͒̚ͅȩ̸̧͔̩̗̟͔̤͇̣̿͜r̴̢̺̟̥͖̣̩̲̪̖͈̊͆̅̆̇̌̐͜͠͝ ̴̪̜̦̮̺̳͓̪̗͚̱̘̈́͐̈́̏̉̅͗͠t̵̨̖̘̣̄͆̉̃̆̋͝͠ö̸̡̹̱̘̜̗̣́̎̓̓̋̓͝ ̴̧̧̯̟͎̹̥̗̟̞̘̂̂͒͆̈́̍̇̐̚̕ͅḒ̸̛̩͚̖͕͚͒̿̎̅̈́͐̌͝Į̶̰̹͕͓̭͕̪̀É̸̤̘̱͐̓̆̌́̓͜͠ ̴̛̦̺̝͕̹͖̟̂́̎̈́̄̊̾̂͑͑͘͝F̶̨̭̺̝͓̯̞̥̫̭̣͇̔̈́̀̈́͗̃̎̄̊̽͜Ö̴̧̩̜̣̝͎̬̖̻͈̥̬́́̕̕̕͝Ŗ̸̢̼͖̬͙̹̟̣͎́̎͂͊͊̐̄̈́̈́͊͑̆͂͘ͅ ̷̨̗͇͓̱͕̟͓̻̈́̅̎̂̽͗̀̕Ẏ̷̛̜̟͖̠͙̓́̐̾͋ͅͅO̴̧̧̺͙̭̘̱̗̱̰͈̭̾̈́̐̌̊̐͊̾̍̒̓̎͒̍͜͝U̶͙͓̬̱̙̗͉͈͙̰̘͈͉̥͒̑͂̅̌̔̓̀̚͠.̷̡̳̏̔̋̃̋.

Didn't he deserve that? Just one good thing? Just one piece of happiness? If not happiness, then just a moment free of pain?

Y̵̡̪̾̎́͂̆̽̋̿̒̆̉̾̕͠O̴̦̩̣̦̤̥͇̫̹̝͕̍̍͛̃̀̓͜Ǔ̴͙͉̖̰͌̄͂̓͂ ̶̧̛̻̱̯͓̳͔͉̞͈̺̥͓̗̏̋̏̐̆̌͊͊͝͝D̸̛̖̠̹̱͑͑͗̎̑͊̈́̂̉̈́͘͠͠E̶̹̓͝Ş̴̡̛͔̪̹̱̼̬̪͆̎̎̌̏̌̑̉́̅͛Ĕ̸̡̨̢͈̙̭̬̙R̴͕͑̾̓͋̈́̕V̶̗̄̐̊̂̎͘͠͠E̴̯̬̹̗̖͗̆̇̐͌͘͠ ̸̨̱̆͂̂͌̌̽Ņ̶̙̹̟̲͖͕̰͇̠̘̜͋̒̏̒̅̑̈͋͆̊͜͜͝Ȍ̸̭̯͓̦̤̫̜̞͈̝̖̀͋̃̌̓̈́̅̚͜T̷̯̫͍́̊̂͑̓̊͊͊͐̚͠͝H̶̡̛̥͓̮̹͎̼̻͗̇́̍̽͝͝I̶̢̻̰̯͕̭̪̘̻̮̹̤̪͈̔͝ͅÑ̵̻̭̻̣́̑̉̕Ǵ̷̣̹̬͙̙̱̰̍.̴̺̰̟̯̤̰͐̈́́̕͘͝

He only wanted to be free! He only wanted to be himself again! He just wanted to stop feeling so _helple̷̢̞͎̰͈̅́s̴͉̠͙͙̻̞̜͚̭̭͌̿͒̃͗͜ş̷̢̢̙̮͔̼̣̼̍̑͐̂͆̈́́̈́̕͝_

There's a sharp pain rising out of his Gem, and a flash of light.

For a moment, he sees the sharp, curved blade of a sword, it's hilt in his hands.

And then it was gone.

Y̶͇̦͓͂̀̈́̌̑̆͠ͅO̴̰̙̘͂̃͂̾͒́̋̏͂Ứ̶̡͔͉̠̱̤̇͊͝ ̵̢̛̛̥̔͌̈̽̀͘Ǻ̵̜̮͍̥̭͌̐͗̈͜R̵̝̪̹̫̠͎E̶̱̚ ̵̻͔͍͒͒̃̂̇̏͘D̵̨͖̣̭̱̪̦̩̏̂͌̋̀̾̄̿̇͘Ȩ̵̱̜̭̞͕̞̞̮͙͒Š̸̮̞͎̜̗̩͙͉̝̪̒͂̑̿̄̏E̴̹̼̻̲̝̮͕͓͐̏̌̄̔̏̕͝R̴̛̜̮͉͔̫̤̍̑̿̓͗̎͘V̵͙̗̝̭̰͋̿̍̍̃̕͜I̴̛̲̯̞͖̝̘̜͑͐̓͒̂̕͝͝N̷̯̞͇͍͚̱̯̍̑̌̑͘͠Ġ̴̨̲̥̿̏͆̈́̈́̉͜͝ ̵̧̡̾̿̀͝O̴̧̡̮͎͔̫̳͈͉̽͋̆̿̎͜F̶̢̽̓̌͂̋̃̚͘ ̵̻̬̣̏N̶̢̗̞͈͕̬͇͔̾O̵̟̼̬͚͙̱̮̥̱̊͂ͅT̷͖̗͉̜̈́̓̈͗͗̃͝H̴̛̼͉̟̣̫̼̰̩̎̃̾́̎̉̾͘I̸̛̯̰̬̥͕̣͓̣̜̦̎̂͛̿͘͠N̵̙͖͖̜̎͑̐́̓̈́̏͝G̸̠̱̻̣̜̮̠͎̻̈́͐̒̄͘̕͜.̸̱̖̖͍͈̬̆̓͌̾͗͐͗͝͝  
̴̨̫̩͕̺ͅ  
̵̗͚̲̯̏̄̌̀̍́͝Ỷ̸̡̖̺̱̪͌̄͒Ö̵̡̟̹̼̀U̸̳̺̮̻̟̭͂͑̈̈́̓ ̵̨̧̛̻̪̹͎̣̤͉͐̈̓̓͊͝͝W̸̢̛̹͔̞͍̣̞̌̒͝͝Į̵̼̙̘̼͈̂͒͌͌̅͘L̶̡͎̼͕͕̲̩̠͍̂͒̎̉͌ͅL̴̼̤͔͓̠̦̫̳̎̈́ ̵̢̫͉̳̜̏̽̽̀̎͂̇̊̿ͅĄ̷̙͖̪̞̩̏̌̈́͂́̕͠Ḽ̶̭̆̋͝W̴̧̠̳̲͙̥̙͒͜Ă̶̩̼̱͎͚͉͂͆̔̎͜͝Y̶̮̦̯͝S̶̨͈̭̮̗̳̘̞̃͐̌̄̅̏͘͠͝ ̶̜̜͒͒͐̍̑͆̋̔̇B̷̡̭̫͚̾͑̀͐̂͗̽̈́̒E̶̳͎͚̰͉̙͔̬͊̋̑̓̚ ̴͓̰̤̺̱̗̝̠̀̋̉̀̾̃͝͝͠Ṋ̵͚̫͙̮̮̤̌̆̈̍͐̕͜ͅǑ̴̜̈́͝Ț̸̯̻̦̘̋̿̍̆̀̐͗̚͘Ḥ̶̢̯̹͙͕̜͇̫̽Į̸̢̧̟̘̫̱̥͉͗͌̓̽̿̆͐̇͜Ṇ̸̢͇̘̤̫̞̓̍̊̾G̴̖̦͇͚̜͇͐̔͆͘̕.̶̡̘̺͙͉͙͆̅̚ͅ  
̸̨̞̱̮̤̎̕  
̸̩͉̗̲͂͆͆̊̓̈̕͝ͅY̶̨̰͍̪̲͎̹̎̆̄͜͝O̴̢̙̯̖̝̥̭̾̈́̊̅̏͑̃͒͛Ǘ̶̥̖̱͚͒̐́͗̓ͅͅ ̶̡͉͓̻̲̯̘̺̩͋̋̓͝Ẃ̷̨̼̻̯̭͓͎͚̒̓̊̌̉̎͘ͅI̴̫̺̖͎͆̋͋L̵̘̲̺̐̒͋̍̎͊̈́̚L̶̛̳͓̯̉̃̑͠͝ ̵̡̩̜̺͚̠͈͚̾͌̽͊̑̓͒͠͝Ả̵̖̟̈̚͘Ļ̵̛͕̠͈͔̓W̶̪̹̼̐̽̿̐̄̕͜A̴̰̭̣͐̒̽Y̴̹̎͗S̸̢̘͔͙͈͍̯̑͂͂̃͂ ̶͙̙̦̔H̷͕̘̻̜̠̠͈̎̆͋̔̏̓A̴̟̬͒̓͜V̴̯͇̱̍̈́̈́̾́͆͘Ę̴̡̖̱̤̥̊͋̾̾̏͊̈́͘ ̷̳̝͍͕̘͕̎̒̈́̃̉͊N̵̰͕̘̲̮̿̾͊̊̓͒͠O̵͙͙T̴̮͇̾́͑ͅH̸̗͔̉̅̇Ḯ̷̼̳̂̉̂N̷̦̬̋͐̆̈́̒͘͠G̷̨̨̛̦̻̬͠.̵̜̪͙̙̼̤͚̻̪͈̔͑̉̓̒̐̑̌  
̶̻̝͉̣͉̜͔̗̄͊̄̃̓  
̸͕͍͛̓̆͌I̷̢̜͛͂̆̆͑̕ ̵̧̯̍̉̅̊̾͛̒̈́̓W̶̱̰̿I̵̮̟̗̯͓͍̣̲͝ͅL̸̡̡̜͍̞̠̮̬͎̗̔̈̍́̍̈́̑̈́̕͠L̷̮̭̾̓͋̓̈́̐̂ ̶̩̗̲̼̥̗̂͛̉͑̕M̷͕͂̑A̸̬̞̟͎̙̅̽̀͑K̵̛̠̮̻͎̽͑͂E̵̟̒̂́̾̎̅̓̋̇ ̷͓̣͑S̶̢̢̰͙͈̰͔̱̈́̉͂̿Ṷ̶̢̝͔͙̠̖̙͆͌̎̍̀͝͝ͅR̷̛̺͕Ě̸͖͈̅͛ ̷̨̢͕̜̺̯͓͍͈̉O̴͔̭̥̭̯͛̑͛̍͠͝Ḟ̵̤̯̝̩̤̙̝̲̣̊́̄͛̋̕ ̸̜̃͐͝I̸̡̛̯̘̘͉̱̜̮͛̈́̂̈̆̊̓̏̕T̸̯̰̣̣̥̠̠̻̆͊̈̋͂͋͜ͅ.̵̢͔͕̞͔̼̻̽͛̅̾


	6. Red Like Roses

He cannot be Steven Universe anymore.

The ring of his mother's voice inside his gem had made it plenty clear about that. Whether it really _was_ Rose or Pink or any real person, the pain had been real, repeatedly and painfully shattering whatever last illusion that he could ever dare think of himself as any kind of 'Steven' ever again.

_~~What's wrong, Biscuit?~~ _

Not now, Connie.

~~Steven~~

Another painful ring of song wracks his body. ~~Sorry, mother. I'm sorry, I'll be good, I won't do it again, I swear~~

Not-Steven, Not-Son-of-Rose.

But he needed a name. (Even if according to _certain outside parties_ , he was barely worth even that.)

Humans needed a names. Even Gems needed names, repetitive as they could become. The fusion he had lived with once (she _had_ to have been a fusion, she had two gems, even if she never said it, ~~even if none of them had ever bothered to be honest with him for once in his life~~ ) had been... Garnet, was it? Yes, Garnet. Even fusions had names.

Yet he wasn't a fusion, as far as he knew. Pearl was well, Pearl. He wasn't a Pearl either. Imagine- a Diamond calling itself a Pearl.

_Golly gee, would you look at that. We've still got jokes._

Another hysterical laugh bubbles in his mouth, rattling off the hotel walls. He laughs and laughs and can't quite stop the stilted, dead noted song until he forcibly strangles his mouth in his hands.

A rent free stay was reliant on other people's whims after all. Best not to push his luck.

Well- "rent free". He had "convinced" the unfortunate manager of the establishment that it would be in their "best interest". It may have involved a very strongly worded suggestion that he was violent and unpredictable and bound to turn into some sort of horrible, dragon-y beast if he didn't have just _one good night to rest, please and thank you sir/madam_.

T̶͇̯̼͛̿͌h̵̠͊́͂͝ȋ̷̬͈̤̜̈͊̒͑e̶̫͠f̷͉͕̒̈́̐͘.̷͉͓̐ ̶̩̦̪̓͝ͅL̶̰̥̦̿͐͜ͅi̶͇̣̯̻͊͑̈́͆͝a̶̮͇̱r̵̖̦̬͒.̸̻̮͎̜͆̿́̒͠ ̸̞̼̹͍̀̓D̵̛̘̹̫̥͌͐̑ȉ̶̡̖s̴̢̜̃ȁ̵͎̖̮̻̝̇̕p̸̛͇̤̫̘̊̋̋͑p̸̧͈̙̄͆̆̂ọ̶̬̠̐̔̋͝i̷̮̩̅̈́ͅn̶͉͖̦͖̅t̵̗̩̹̜̅͐͛̚m̵͓̜̠̽̌͌̈́è̴͓n̴̳͕͉̠̿̂̆͂ẗ̴̳̪́̓͛̏̊.̷̭͙̯̳̘̈́ ̶̠̦̮̤͚͐̌A̵̱̬̝͠w̸̨̦̫̦̮͂̐̽̅͗f̵̧̢̤̳̩̃͗̌̈͝ų̷̳͇͖͙̅̆̈̿l̸̞̥̂̏̈́̅̒ ̷̼͓̲̫̞͆̽̒c̷̟̰̙̲͐̉̒͠h̴̝̲͎͎̔̒ï̶̧̮͖͕͝l̶̞̼̤̼̏̋̕d̶̤̖̼̫̎́̃.̶̢̕ ̷͔͙̈́̓M̷͎̜͌u̶̘̮̰̐̓ŗ̶̥̗̠̲̈́ḋ̸̼̮̔̅ͅe̸͕͐͛r̸̪͆̈ḛ̴̡̥͋̃̈́r̴̙͇̞̼̅̿̌ ̷̢̗̼̹͕̿͝m̴̗̗̝̠͎̉u̵͓̺̾̄r̸̞̎̋ḋ̶̡͕͈̣̦́͑̋͒è̷̡̞͔͇̾̚r̸̡̟͠ȅ̴̗̺̘̜͉͋̀̂̏r̵̨͍̪̣͂͛̉̄̿ ̴̡̺͈͓̆͊͜͠m̷̨̫̣̭̤͆̏͆u̶̥̖͉̺͌r̷̛̜̈́͐̈̚ͅd̶̡̞̪̮̒͆̑͗̔ḛ̶̢͆̊́͂̎r̸̥̟͑̓͜e̵̟̼͝r̵̛̺̒͌͘ ̵̪̊̉̆̚m̷̨̭͉̘̑̄͘ų̷̇̆̋̂̕r̴͍̭̯̖̅͠d̸̦̃͐̾͊e̵̺̥̯̋̿̍͗͆r̴̘̾̏͊͗͌e̷̮̤̝̩̊͊ͅr̴̩͕̟͍͗ ̴͕̻̤̆͊͝m̸̗̺͖̘͊͗͑̈́u̶̡̧̻͑̋͛r̵̛͉͙̙͎̪̈ḓ̷̟̗̂e̸̻̜̫̺̖̅̈́̈́r̵̜̼͋̒̈́ė̵̕͜͠r̷͖̥͕̩͆

Or maybe they had simply taken in the vaguely malnourished set of his body, the ramshackle clothes he wore, the dead note of his gemsong that he suspected was a permanent fixture now. He knows, distantly, that he must look younger than he probably is. Perhaps they saw in him some shaking, desperate, badly battered teen and taken pity on him.

It was so hard to tell how humans thought.

Either way, they weren't likely to kick him out too soon. Not that it mattered. Whatever the strength of their pity or fear, he couldn't stay for long.

After all, the Gem Eradication Front was still active and could find him at any time. Likely they were already on his trail. They probably even left a few... _surprises_ on him. God knows how many times they put him under the knife, they were bound to have left something behind. Trackers, shockers. ~~Maybe a kill switch, like they'd been talking about lately.~~

But it's not like he had anyway to check for them. And not even death's door would ever willingly see him near a human doctor ever again, not after _those_ particular lab coats. Trackers or not, he wasn't quite that desperate yet.

Besides, he didn't have a way to actually go to the doctor. It's not like he had a ride.

~~Perhaps he could make off with someone's car~~ **No.**

No.

Enclosed... metal... trap... thing. Absolutely not.

He'd barely been out for a week. He's not exactly willing to remind himself of anything remotely like he'd just come out of, not so soon. ~~Not ever.~~

It occurs to him, vaguely, that it might be absurd, inconvenient, and perhaps bordering on the problematic, that the idea of being inside a car inspires such violent protest. He can't exactly bring himself to care at the moment. He's got problems. Big deal. He'll deal with it later, thank you very much.

_He'll deal with it absolutely positively never ever ever, thank you please sir madam._

A motorcycle would be nice.

It _would_ be nice, wouldn't it? High mobility and maneuverability. The open space, the wind in his hair, it would all be so.... free.

It's a nice thought. Still doesn't solve his problems. Like the whole name thing.

Even if he couldn't quite manage a name of his own, he still needed something to call himself. Whatever his host of mental fuckery, depersonalizing himself with a lack of a name was bound to break some last unbroken brain bit he didn't even know he still had.

Gem type would have been simple. Gem type would have been easy. If only that damn gem wasn't a pink diamond. Certainly couldn't go around calling himself _that._

Y̸̧̰̮̙̙͚̠̻̞͇̰̣̱͖̱͂̓̅ó̵̧̭̬͈̼͖͂û̶̞̩̯̭̥͖̒̉̂̄̚͜͝ͅ ̶̧̛̭̳̪̹̞̜͎̺̣̻̭͎̀͗̆̾̿͐̈̽͆̇̍̾͝͠d̶̫̖͇̫̹̪̰̬̝̹͈͋̌͋͋̌̓̂̓͊̕ǒ̶̧͕͈̠͙̭̄́̌̄̏̾̒̑́͝ͅn̷͚̺̱͓̂̇̄̂̑̇̃͘͜'̵̱̜̝̰͖̗̥̪̪̌̉̈̿̔͑͆͝ť̵̡̧͎͔̝̖̤̜͉͇̎̆͒̓̀̋̂͝͝͝ ̴̡̳̙̲̼̝̼̤̹̠͉͇̳̇̉̏̉̋̍̊͘̚͠h̵̳̳͉̜̯̹̓͌̉́͒̍͗̿̈́ā̶̢̫̹̱̹̞̞̦̼̪̲̙͇̟̮̑̎̂̽̾̀̒v̸̢̼̫̫̭͕̹̤̰̠̲͇̼͓̅́̏ë̷̯̳́͛̏͌̆̏̋̋̆̚͝͝ ̶̢̧̦̙̻̻̩̰̝̺̲̝̞͂͊̿͛̔̍͘t̴̯̭̀̃̎͐́̈́̔̓͗̆̋͝ḣ̸͙̻̽̎̾̍͌́̔̑̊̏̆̆̐ë̸͔̱̱͜͝ ̴̨̛̺͖̟̳̩̟̯̈͛̈́̊̃̏̆̃̔̆̑̋͘̚r̶̡̦̤͈̙͇̻̈́͛į̸̨͇̩̻̰̩̥̞̙͔̯̬̼̈̿͑͗̈́͌ǵ̵̭͉̟̠͕̑̓h̴̗͔͂̊̈́̌͐́̃̚͠t̴̯͔̮̖̊͋͑͗̔̒̇.̶̡̛̤̙͙̭͉͕͍͖̮̬͙̋͋͗̎͗ͅͅ

If one looked at his gem, it was a shade of pink, almost red. 

RED. Red. Red. 

Crimson. 

Crimson like anger, like blood, ~~like roses.~~

Crimson seemed to... lock in place.

_Zirconia, the simulant. The imitation. The lab-made. The false diamond._

Crimson Zirconia. Painfully on the nose, but it'll do, at least around the Gems.

But he'll need a human name, too. As much as he hates it, as much as he hates humans, he still rather looks like one, and he'll have to interact with them, at least on a base level.

C... Calton? Clark? Cameron-

_Connor. Lover-of-wolves-and-hounds._

A lone, savage wolf, as it were.

Perfect.


	7. Lost Boy

Connor was annoyed as he started walking from the place he had called home. Well, "home". More of a temporary sanctuary, nothing more. He had no home, not that he knew of. He wasn't sure where "home" was or what such a word even still meant to him.

He'd lived in that facility for five years, a guest to their 'hospitality'. Was that "home"? Was it home ~~to break every conceivable part of his body again and again _and again and again_~~

**NO.**

No. 

_No, no no no no..._

Whatever else he had forgotten, at least he remembered that much about himself. That place wasn't right. That place wasn't anybody's home, and certainly not his. And yet...

...and yet.

He finds, sometimes, the daylight is grating against his eyes, and for a micro-instant he misses the darkness of his cell.

P̸̟͓͙̦̤̩̦̟̰͋a̴͖̙̗̱̭̬̙̪̪͇̲̪̱̪̫̋̑͊́̌̽t̸̜͉̩̰̣̤̦͂̌̃ͅh̴̨͇̖͍͖̩̮̪͛̒̓̀͐̂̈e̷̢̺̞̯̰̦͜͠ṫ̷̢̨̧̲̞̬̜͍̭̰̑̈́̇̄̐̃̄͝i̶͙͕̾̌̄͛̉̓c̷͉̼̠̰̫̮̤̣̼̖̤̯͊̈́̽͛͜.

_Shut up, mother._

And the Temple? Home wasn't the Temple either anymore. The gems wouldn't want a pale imitation of Steven around anyway. They wouldn't want a ~~murdering scumbag~~ in their home for any length of time.

Little Homeworld wasn't an option either given he was â̶̛͓̝͇̭̞̙͎̻͙͖̱̈̓̾͂̈́͗̍̚̕ṉ̸̰̪̲͕͕̰̆́̑͛̃̒ ̶̢̯̍̊̔͋̿̈́͂͆̊̕̕͝a̸̞̠͒̃̐̾̓̿b̵̡̨̯͉̟̞̩͚̘͖̗͓̺̥̐̈́͒̆̅̂̍̅͒̔ȩ̷͇̰͉͔̠̼̩̘͌͗͒̔̚͜r̵̡̨͚̗̣̺̼͕̫͔͔̹̐̅͊̏̓̌̌͊͑̇̇͘͝͠r̷̢̪̘͙̼̟̤̖̎̂͗̇̆͒̀̓̏͘͝ã̵̧̧̨̟̜͓̬̣͎̳̙͇̪͔ţ̴̡͒̌̈͊͒̋͗̐̽̓͘i̵̧̧͓̝̙͙͚̝͙̭̰̦̭͆ͅo̷̧̹͚̯̜̫͇̲͑̏̽n̵̞̺̘̮͋ͅ ̴͉̟̞͙̩̙̣̲͉͍̟̖͈̄̉̽̎͌̏̕͜͜͠t̵̢̢͚̫̫̱͍͇͚͇̝͍̖̉͂͒͘h̷̨̧͓͓͍̻͇̘̣͉͚̭̟̒̐̅̎̉̄̃͘̚͠ą̴̞̗̦̖̹̮̝̃̍ẗ̸̡̨̛̖̩͎͔̼̙̣́̑͐̄̍̈́͒̄̽͜͝ ̸͇͈̰͍̦͑̆͆̈̃̈̎d̷̩̤͆̌́̾́̃̏̚͠ī̶̲̥̾͋̽̉̓͌̚d̶̤͓̜̱̪̪̝̭͈͉͂͗̏͋͒̃́̿̚͝n̶̲̻̺̰͉̼̻̩͚̞̬̱̜̍̐̽̒̈́̀̈́͌̑̏̕̕̕̕'̷̛̤̠̝̓̊̈́̐̃̽̈́͋͘̚͘ţ̴̎̎̄̂͋͘͝ ̷̧̡̻͕͚͈̰̲̼͕̼̉͊̈̈̒͗̓̓ͅḑ̷̩̯͉̳̭̦̳̜͉̉̓̍͑̊̿̏͋̓͋͘͝ë̵̛̠͍̈s̵̪̝̪̩͔̊̽̇̐̈́͗͌̈́̈̎̔̚̚͝e̶̢̡̙̫̰͔̩̭͔̹͉̦̥̬̣̽̓̽͗̏̆̃͂̿̇̐͋̚͠r̸̼̥͙̘̤̺͍̖̩̈́͛̑̈́̿̾̊̄͘v̵̛̭̭̳̹̗̘̞̯͉̱̠̻̎͒̈̈͋̿̊̎̾̒̒̿͘ͅę̶̢͚̳̯̞͉̭͍͖͗̍͐̄̈́͋̊̂͘͠͝ ̵̡̦̼̜͚̩̭͎̗̹̜̠̩͎̈́̀͘t̷̙̗̞̩͊͝ơ̷̤̻͓̟̣͈̩̈́̏̎̐̈́̓̌̓͘͝ ̶͚͖̲̪̝͉̠̹̥̺̦̻̽͒̈́̈́̂e̴̢̦͋͐̒̓͆̔͋̒́̄̎̄x̷̜̱̠̘͉͙̟͍͚̮͂̈́̄̎̄͑̽̃̒̂͌̿͝i̷̢̡͍̭̱̖͔̥̹͋͐͛͑̽̅̐̍́̽͘͝ͅs̸̢̡̝̘̎͝t̷̥͚̽̓ according to certain parties. It might be. Safer, yes, if he stayed away from there.

Yet he would need tools to raid Stark ~~Enterprises~~

~~Industries~~

~~Enterprises~~

~~Industries~~

STARK WHAT THE **FUCK** EVER-

for the weapons he needed to face the GEF down. Or to punch Steven until he was black and blue. Whichever one fate threw at him first.

_Someone's in the woods with us._

"My goodness." A Gem (a Pearl?) takes in his bedraggled appearance. "What is a human doing this far from the cities? Are you lost?"

Oh. Right. He'd crossed the American border some time ago, hadn't he? There was a Gem settlement somewhere up in Canada, if he recalls. 

"Lost?" He hates it, the way she flinches from the dead rasp of his song, but there's nothing to be done. "I..."

Lost. He was... lost.

Lost without purpose. Lost without guidance. ~~Lost and alone and dark and cold and _I'm sorry, I won't act like I don't deserve it ever again, please stop_ _I'll do **anything**_ ** _, please_**~~

Lost without anything but the clothes on his back.

"Yes, I guess I'm... lost. In a manner of speaking. I'm no _human_ , though," he half spits, hitching his shirt just enough to flaunt his gem. "I need some help. Kind of in a hurry, here."

"Goodness. What in the world happened to you?" She squints down at his gem appraisingly, noting the sweeping chips and hairline cracks. "I'm surprised you can still speak. We'll need a full scan to make sure there aren't any internal fractures."

_Great. People. Questions._ _Oh boy._

"Long story," he throws at her implied question. "Lotta years of a lot of pain. How long is this gonna take? I can't stay." _I can't stay long enough for you to start asking questions._

"It shouldn't take too long, but... if this damage is as old as you're implying, I'm not sure. I would have expected this level of injury to have shattered you by now. We'll draw up a bath and see where it goes."

_Well I'd rather get as far away as possible from all of you, but fuck me I guess._

"Yeah. Okay."

_God, I need to get a ride soon._

* * *

It wasn't working.

Why wasn't it working?

_Nothing is working._

It's like his Gem was actively fighting being healed.

Melo Pearl glances worriedly at his gem again. "This is very unusual. I've never even _heard_ of a case like this. We might need to call in Asteria Diamond to handle this."

_Asteria Diamond._

The Steven of this world, this time. He'd done well for himself, that Steven. Power, prestige- lucky bastard had it all. And Connor hated absolutely every bit of it.

"I'd really rather _not_." He grumbled. "Is there anything else we can try?" He asked, as he looked at her. "ANYTHING else?"

"I'm sorry," she chirps nervously, throwing her hands in the air, "but we really already _have_ tried everything else. At this point, our only hope is going directly to the source."

"I can't." Oh how he _hates_ the fear he knows she can see in his eyes, but fuck it, he's desperate. "I can't let him see me like this."

_He's not ready, he's not strong enough, **it's not safe IT'S NOT SAFE**_ -

H̷̡̫̟̞͚̟͔̆͑̈́̾͒̀̍̈́͂͑̅͗͝ë̸͕́'̷̧̧͙̣̭̝͔͓̞͙̣̬̟̈́͂͊̏̑͐̃̊̉̃̎͠d̵͔͉̼̥̺̻̯̏ͅ ̴̟̩̖̟̪͐k̵̥̮̳̩̓͋͠ĭ̸̢͙̲̗̫̭̮̠̠̫͔͗̃̎͂͆̏̓̉͌̚̕̕ļ̸̳̺͉̪̣͍̭̠̣͆̇̇l̸̢̨̥̻̰̫̎͂̈́̄̍̿͌̈́̔͒̕ ̴̛̯̱͚͍͂̒̀̽̌̆͊͠͝y̴̡̗̦͎͖͍͋̿̌̌̆̌o̸͇̤̦̞͈̼͂͗̋͆̏͛̑͘u̷̩̭͕̗̩͇̮̼͎̬̐̎̂̀̿͛ ̴̨̩̺̬̠͓̟̰̲̰̻̬͎́̈́̒̇̉͘͘w̴̧͍͓̖̒͋͐͋̂̇͒̋͝͠h̸̨̫̺̘̰̜͉̭̼͕͉̖͇́̿͛͐̈́̓ĕ̵̡̡̛͎̪̙͈͖̪̙͉͉̣̼̺̓̃͐́̓̎̑́̈́̈́͘ͅr̸̫͈̈̑̀̀̾̓̄̒͆̑͘ë̸̛̜̠́̋͛͂͘ ̸̢̨̘͓̙̻͉̘̻̪̹͒̍͛͝ͅy̴̬̭͚̝̯̥̼̼̥̺̟̞̥̝͒̿̾̌͠o̷̪͇̩̬̥̟̹̩̻̥̹̺̰͈̦̓̏̄̄͑ư̷̡̪͓̗̬͖̹̳̣͉̔̍̂̍̿̋̃̈́̓͌̓̌͛͠ ̷̧͉̙̼̪͗͛̉͗̈͜ͅŝ̸̑̃̈́̚͜ṯ̶̘̖̯͙͎̠̻̜̊̿͜a̸͖̯̭̭̱̪͂̓̏̉͗͝ͅņ̴̛̳̣̯̪̱͚͇̄͑̉̃̈́͛̏̿̑͝d̴̡̪̠̼̪̙͍̝͒̓͛͛ͅ ̸̢̝̣͖̊ȧ̸̳̂̈́͘n̶̡̨̼̺͕̉̅̂̿̎̈́̏̔͒̊̒̚d̸̤̟̤̫̥͉̣͚̠̦͚͍͙̦̆̊͊͊̏̂̉̑͋͆̽̔̕͝͝ ̷̡̢̪̲͇͈̎̊̿͗͌̊͐̓̐͛͋̋̕͝ͅy̸̟̖̞̪̏͑͛̊͝ő̸̜̳͕͍̊̔͊͐̇̆u̸̹̐͒̌̚̚'̵̧̜͚̲͕͓͛̈̽͋͊̂̿͋̀̄͛͜͝d̵̨͉͉̣͍͉͇̯̱̯͂ͅ ̵̦̠̟͙̠̘̩͕̼̟̟̉̅̀̍̉͑̑͗͋̋̈͝D̸̨̛͕̹͎͕̟̗̞̮̤̬̬̹̠͂̉͐͐̏̂͊́͑E̸̥̭̊͒̽͛͛S̸̙̫̺͎̪͚̃́̉Ë̸̡̡̛͉̳̳̰̩̙̪́Ṙ̸̢̨̛͈͉̪͕͙̩͌͂̓͐̏͘͜͝͝ͅV̵̡͍̰̪̝̫̼̗͇̦̤̙͓͔̈́̑Ẹ̶̣̦̜̠̤̻̟͙̘̠͓̺̊̑͂͒̏̀͘͝ ̷̲͚̫͉̥͔͔̖̩̞̗̉̃͒̓̿̓̑̐̆̂̓̊͠͝i̸̯͇̝̱̞̹͎̞̣̮̭̘͉̾̀͘t̸͖͚͖̲̘͕͕̜̞̣̮̒̔͒̀͒͌͊̈́̌͌͜ͅ.̶̫̺̙̲͕̝̙̞͈̤̟̿͌͂̉̅̓͛̎̕ͅ

And she caves, at least a little.

She sighs. "Zirconia... do you know whether your condition will... worsen, should we leave this untreated? You seem to at least be managing for now. If you're injuries are stable at least, we can simply do what we can at the moment and let you seek His Radiance out for yourself when you're ready." There's a stern look on her face. "But if this injury is likely to worsen, I cannot in good conscience simply let you leave, for your own health and safety."

_Cannot let you leave._

No, no, that's just _worse._

He'd take having to face the full brunt of the bastard Diamond himself than to be trapped here with the _prodding_ and _pity_ and their _endless, endless questions._

" _Fine_ ," his song finally breaks. "I'll let him see me."

_And not a bit more than that until I've got the means to bash his head in._

It'll be fine. _It'll be fine._ He can take it. He can take being alone with the other powerful, pretigious, 24-7 Diamond On Main version of himself who could probably break what's left of his brain by blinking.

It'll be fine. It'll be _easy_. He'll just have to never make eye contact, or talk, or think so much as a vaguely negative thought because _oh yeah, the Diamonds are all psychic, isn't that just **FUCKING SWELL**_.

It's fine. _It's fine._

_Oh stars above, he's shattered._


End file.
